“I’ll go when we get back to London,” said the mate. “I’ll hand this barge over to the cap’n, and nobody else.” “Well, we’ll see,” said the girl, as she took the wheel, “_I_ think you’ll go at Ipswich.” For the remainder of the voyage the subject was not alluded to; the mate, in a spirit of sulky pride, kept to the fore part of the boat, except when he was steering, and, as far as practicable, the girl ignored his presence. In this spirit of mutual forbearance they entered the Orwell, and ran swiftly up to Ipswich. It was late in the afternoon when they arrived there, and the new skipper, waiting only until they were made fast, went ashore, leaving the mate in charge. She had been gone about an hour when a small telegraph boy appeared, and, after boarding the barge in the unsafest manner possible, handed him a telegram. The mate read it and his face flushed. With even more than the curtness customary in language at a halfpenny a word, it contained his dismissal. “I’ve had a telegram from your father sacking me,” he said to the girl, as she returned soon after, laden with small parcels. “Yes, I wired him to,” she replied calmly. “I suppose you’ll go _now?_” “I’d rather go back to London with you,” he said slowly. “I daresay,” said the girl. “As a matter of fact I wasn’t really meaning for you to go, but when you said you wouldn’t I thought we’d see who was master. I’ve shipped another mate, so you see I haven’t lost much time.” “Who is he,” inquired the mate. “Man named Charlie Lee,” replied the girl; “the foreman here told me of him.” “He’d no business too,” said the mate, frowning; “he’s a loose fish; take my advice now and ship somebody else. He’s not at all the sort of chap I’d choose for you to sail with.” “You’d choose,” said the girl scornfully; “dear me, what a pity you didn’t tell me before.” “He’s a public-house loafer,” said the mate, meeting her eye angrily, “and about as bad as they make ’em; but I s’pose you’ll have your own way.” “He won’t frighten me,” said the girl. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you. Good evening.” The mate stepped ashore with a small bundle, leaving the remainder of his possessions to go back to London with the barge. The girl watched his well-knit figure as it strode up the quay until it was out of sight, and then, inwardly piqued because he had not turned round for a parting glance, gave a little sigh, and went below to tea. The docile and respectful behaviour of the new-comer was a pleasant change to the autocrat of the _Osprey_, and cargoes were worked out and in without an unpleasant word. They laid at the quay for two days, the new mate, whose home was at Ipswich, sleeping ashore, and on the morning of the third he turned up punctually at six o’clock, and they started on their return voyage. “Well, you do know how to handle a craft,” said Lee admiringly, as they passed down the river. “The old boat seems to know it’s got a pretty young lady in charge.”